An Neart na Darach
by MuiromeM
Summary: "And should he bear on pale crown, a wreath born of the oak tree's boughs, the Queen would speak-out not a word, of knight lay prone with polished sword"- Written for the loss of Gwaine in the finale since I was hit with inspiration. Contains some of my personal headcannon concerning the cremation ceremony and what may have been after Percival brought Gwaine's body back to Camelot.


**"I'd rather die"- a spoken vow**  
**to hinder she that held him now**  
**though courage would not stand the blow**  
**of serpent's hiss from wicked foe**  
**as fangs sank deep in flesh exposed**  
**came shattered screams and eyes held closed**

**To friend awoke, the sound had come**  
**as bonds did break and he would run**  
**on forest floor, so cold and bound**  
**not once did stir the friend he'd found**  
**at last, when hope had seemed to flee**  
**the slightest motion he did see**

**To cradle there, this fallen form**  
**once prison gates, now welcome arms**  
**the trees would keep him to the last**  
**yet not their reach that he would catch**  
**as hands wound over fevered brow**  
**a face he knew, come to him now**

**In warnings gasped through broken lips**  
**to try and drown deep-seated guilt**  
**his name said once and eyes forlorn**  
**from gentle-giant, heart now torn**  
**aghast at failure he had brought**  
**denied by friend who blamed him not**

**When pain bled from one life at last**  
**unto the other it would pass**  
**twice more he called- again, again**  
**a plea to lift the lifeless head**  
**with prayers lost in silent cry**  
**bent crown to crown, one last goodbye**

**With body clutched to mailed chest,**  
**through open gate, up cobbled steps**  
**the kingdom hushed in battles won**  
**a grieving nod to men who'd gone**  
**they gathered now in solemn meet**  
**'round soldier lain at sovereign feet**

**No sound met on the darkened shore**  
**in red they cloaked, as done before**  
**where silence once was not a choice**  
**now souls they'd sell to hear that voice**  
**sent out with pyre as yet unlit**  
**to water's hands would vessel drift**

**And should he bear on pale crown**  
**a wreath born of the oak tree's boughs**  
**the Queen would speak-out not a word**  
**of knight lay prone with polished sword**  
**and watch green leaves turned into ash**  
**beneath the fire's gentle grasp.**

**'Twas written bare on shadowed face**  
**by whom the token had been placed**  
**to mark lost strength, upon his brow **  
**where heads had touched so long ago**  
**as tribute paid from spirit broke**  
**so suited him, this laurel oak**

**A gift it was, for space he'd left**  
**in place of chain once laid at breast**  
**the trinket at another's throat,**  
**a parting gift plucked from the boat**  
**to honor he who'd not returned**  
**a noble man, by blood and earned**

* * *

A/N:_ I blame everything on Merlin feels._

This all happened because I was reading about the Language of Flowers and found out that oak leaves mean "strength" and my immediate thought was of Gwaine (you know, "courage, magic, and strength"). Then between a google search, finding out about some Greek or Roman emperor who wore a head wreath/crown of gold oak leaves, and a previously decided headcannon that Percival (dammit Perwaine got me good in the last episode) wore Gwaine's necklace to remember him by after death (WEAR IT ALWAYS PERCY. ALWAYS) there was no going back. So I was unable to escape the idea of Percival gathering oak leaves and making a head wreath/laurel/crown from them to put on Gwaine's head (as a gift, for taking the necklace) when they lay him in the boat on the lake to be cremated.

I WAS going to just write a very short after-the-credits kind of fic where Percival does just that and no one bothers to try and stop him but when I was struck by inspiration and jotted down a first paragraph from Gwen's point of view it sounded more like a poem and then BAM. There was a poem.

Don't even ask me how I ended up deciding to make everything in sets of six either because I DON'T KNOW AND IT DROVE ME FREAKING CRAZY.

So yeah, I'm sorry if this is awful, strange, makes no sense, went off course, has an awful rhythm and terrible attempts at rhyming, and/or took too many liberties. I'm a fangirl and therefore utterly mad so hopefully no one will bother to look too much into this.

Also, I won't guarantee the translation is correct, but the title is Irish Gaelic for "The Strength of Oak".

**REVIEWS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED. And thank you for reading!**


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